Retired Hunters and their Mysterious Niece
by Gamer-Alexis
Summary: Sam and Dean are old, their hunting days over.  Their niece shows up, bringing back old memories and showing what it means to grow up.
1. Prologue

_This is inspired by the movie Secondhand Lions. A great movie if you haven't seen it yet. It'll be told from the perspective of an OC- a girl (who doesn't have a name yet, feel free to give ideas). I've got a couple of other stories that aren't finished yet- and here I am starting a new project! Enjoy :)_

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><p>When my mom told me I was spending the summer with my uncles, I wasn't expecting Dean and Sam Winchester. My mom was heading to college, leaving me alone, with my grandpa's two brothers. Despite my pleading and begging, my mom wouldn't let me go with her. Nearly shouted at me. But if I knew my mom, and I do, she had some kind of secret plan. She never really trusted me with anything.<p>

"They have millions stashed away," Mom said, "Or so they say. No kids, no real relatives, we're as close as any family."

"So you want them to like me so they'll give me their money?"

"We could get a house," she grinned.

We drove up a long driveway- covered with signs telling us to turn back. My nerves got all jittery, which only amplified when a horde of six dogs and one pig came up after me. If that wasn't enough, there was the faint sound of gunshots.

We walked down to the pond, my mom making introductions. They two of them didn't seem very happy with me. Calling me some sort of girly burden. I was pushed outside to wait. Until the pig greeted me. I'm not one for animals, but a pig? That's pushing a line.

Soon enough my mother was leaving, taunting me like I was still five, instead of eleven. Just like that, she was gone, leaving me with Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean. Brothers of my grandpa Adam. They glanced at me and walked inside.

This was going to be a great summer.


	2. Chapter 1

I sat outside on the porch, practically dying in the Kansas summer heat. Waiting for anything. It was quiet, dull, boring. I did a quick search of the house and found a couple of things- there was no phone and no television. Nothing. I don't know what two old men did for fun, but this wasn't it.

There was a rumble of a car and sure enough, I saw a trail of dirt. Out came a salesman, making a pitch for something to sell. No big deal, until Sam and Dean pulled out a couple of shotguns and shot at him.

I take it back, this summer would be terrifying.

This went on for a few hours- a salesmen would drive up, make a pitch, and then get shot at. I don't know what made it more entertaining, the fact that they were shooting people, or that they were two old men in their sixties. It was so weird to see them shooting, but at the same time, it felt completely natural, like this is what they were meant to do.

"Nice evening," Sam said, "Quiet and peaceful."

Dean grunted.

I wonder if my mom knew what she had gotten me into.

"Now kid," Sam said, "You're going to sleep up in the tower."

I looked up the stairwell, seeing dark panel boards, leading up to my new bedroom. The lamp in my hand shook.

"Listen," Sam continued, "We don't know much about kids. So if you need something, find it yourself."

"Or better yet, learn to do without," Dean put in.

"We're both getting old-"

"-fixing to die anytime so... if we kick off during the night. Good luck."

My eyes widened. I was eleven. How did they expect me to handle myself? Instead of asking them unwanted questions I climbed upstairs to my room. The tower. That certainly wasn't ominous at all.

The room was small and dusty. It looked like he hadn't been used in years (which made sense when I thought about it). I plopped my suitcase on the bed, a cloud of dust rising, the bed springs squeaking.

This must be hell.

I opened my suitcase and felt around for my toothbrush, I didn't know what the point was, no water or toothpaste, why bother? I tossed it back into the suitcase and glanced around the room, nothing surprising about it. A small balcony, a dresser, and a trunk.

Wait.

A trunk with strange markings on it. Marks that looked both religious and satanic. Curiosity overwhelming me I fell to my knees in front of it, tugging on it. It was locked. Fruitlessly I tugged at the padlock. Nothing. But now that I was closer I recognized those marks for what they were. They were demons repelling sigils, and angel repelling symbols. Sam and Dean had more to hide than I thought. Giving up I stood, grabbing the frame of the bed. It jiggled and a key fell to the floor.

Well, it was worth a shot.

I picked up the key, old and rusted like the lock. Naturally, it was the key to the trunk. I tore the padlock off and opened it, expecting... what? Spirits or demons? Some kind of cursed object? What would you put in a trunk with all kinds of symbols on it?

At first glance it looked empty, but as I peeked into it I noticed that it was filled with salt. More demon repelling. I reached in, hoping that they didn't keep spiders in here (not like they would be alive even they were in it) and my fingers brushed against something hard and smooth. Glass. I gripped it tight and pulled it out. A picture frame. As I lifted it and the salt fell away I found a picture of a beautiful man. All dark hair and blue eyes, wearing a brown trench coat.

I heard a slam and dropped the picture back into the salt. I turned to the sound, picking up my propane lamp. I walked to my balcony and looked down. There, in the moonlight, walked Uncle Dean, wearing a long dressing gown, a plunger in his hand. What was he doing out there this late at night?

Not one to miss a good mystery, I ran down the stairs and out the door as quietly as I could, hoping to not wake Uncle Sam. He was heading towards the lake, so that's where I went. No sign of him. Huh. Maybe I was seeing things. Just as I turned to go back to the house there he was, charging the lake, plunger raised over his head.

I fell to the ground, the dogs and pig all sitting in a row, like the front row seats of a good show. I crawled to them.

"Is he sleep walking?" I asked them, feeling foolish. They all whined to me and looked back to Uncle Dean.

He pulled the plunger out like a sword, and before I could fully comprehend, he was using it as a sword, fighting invisible enemies only he could see. Even my untrained eyes could see that he was capable with a weapon. He swung and stabbed, moving into the lake and splashing the water, as if he was killing a fallen enemy.

I watched in awe.

What kind of life did my uncles lead if they knew how to fight like that?


	3. Chapter 2

The next morning I sat down at the table, completely relaxed. Uncle Dean came in through the door, complaining about being sore. I stared, wondering if he knew about his sleepwalking habits. Looks like not. Breakfast was sausages and eggs. I picked at it a bit, ignoring the judging looks from the pig and chicken outside. Might as well eat.

"So..." I started, hesitant, "You two disappeared for a long time. Where were you?"

Uncle Dean didn't say anything.

"All over the country really," Uncle Sam said, "Been to near ever state-"

"No point in talking about it," Uncle Dean said, "Those days are over, we're over."

I didn't talk for the rest of breakfast, instead just eating the sausages. When breakfast was over they dragged me out to a patch of land, giving me a hoe and the three of us worked on the dirt. Gardening. Pfft.

"Hate it. I hate it, hate it, hate it."

Uncle Dean shares my opinions.

"We're retired!" Uncle Sam said, "Gardening is what retired people do."

"Why the hell would someone do that."

"It's good for you. Makes you live to be a hundred."

"Hell with that," Uncle Dean threw his hoe, "You live to be a hundred."

Uncle Dean walked away and I had to stifle a smile. A car roared as it drove up, a family of five calling out to him in their coddling voices. Uncle Dean ignored them and walked away. They got out of the car and came up to Uncle Sam, the same false happy voices. Uncle Sam walked away, not sparing a glance. The family turned and finally got a look at me.

"Who the hell are you?" the dad asked.

"Amy?" I said it like a question.

The mother and father talked about me, asking me about my mom, about how long I was there. It was uncomfortable. The family walked to the house, leaving me there. I followed behind and saw them and my uncles in the kitchen, talking about me no less.

"Whether we take her to the orphanage or tie her up and throw her in a lake is our business, not yours," Uncle Dean said.

"Well here she is now! Spying!"

The father came up and grabbed my shoulder. I kicked out and hit his shin before running from the house.

I knew my mother was a problem, I knew that she lied to me, I knew that she was messing around to find a man. Hearing that I should go to the orphanage though, that was hard. I ran far and far until I hit a gas station. I asked for a phone and they pointed to a decrepit old pay phone. I scrambled for the loose change in my pocket and called the college where she was supposed to be.

Only she wasn't.

I tried every single fake name my mother has ever given, the names spilling from my mouth as I tried to get the woman on the line to listen to me. I begged, telling her how my mother just started, she had to be there, right? In a small sad voice, the woman told me that it was impossible. Classes started in January. No one just started.

Dimly I hung up the phone, shock radiating down my body. She'd lied. Again. Shouldn't be a surprise, and yet here I was in shock. My chest felt strangely hollow and I couldn't quite catch my breath. I rested my head on the phone booth. What do I do now?

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><p>It was dark now and I sat on the curb, an area code map on my lap. Wasn't sure where I was going or how I was going to get there, but I couldn't stay in Kansas knowing my mom was lying to me. Still. I didn't even blink when headlights came up and blinded me. Didn't even look at the sleek car. I stared at my pathetic excuse for a map. My uncles came out and sat next to me. I didn't say anything but I was glad for their company.<p>

"Planning your next move?" Uncle Sam said, looking at my map, "Where you going?"

"Here," I said, pointing, "Area Code 406, Montana."

"How come you're tot going to your mom?"

"She's not there. She lied. Again."

I bit back tears.

"Listen kid," Uncle Sam said, "We know your set on heading to Montana, but... it's late." he looked to his brother. "Dean, come on."

"Sounds like she's got her mind made up," Uncle Dean said, patting my knee, "Good luck in Montana, kid."

"We got better maps at the house, right Dean?" Uncle Sam said pointedly.

"Yeah," Uncle Dean said softly, "You need a good map, that's for sure."

"I've been to the orphanage before," I said, "I don't wanna go back."

"Dammit kid, it ain't our fault you've got a lousy damn mother," Uncle Dean said.

I could feel them looking at each other over my head. I gripped my map tight and stood up. I looked around.

"I should go," I said, "Which way's North?"

I looked around again, wondering if a sign would fall down from the sky, telling me how to get to Montana. I jumped when I heard the horn blare. The father of the other family came too. Must be his car.

"I'll say one thing about the kid," Uncle Dean said as they stood up, "She sure pisses off the relatives."

"Listen kid, do us a favor," Uncle Sam said, "If you come back to the house, and stay a while, why our relatives are gonna hate it. I bet they hate it so much they go away and leave us all the hell alone."

Uncle Dean nodded, "Crazy enough it just might work."

"Come on kid, help us out here," Uncle Sam pleaded.

I looked at them and back to my map. If I was honest with myself I didn't want to go to Montana. As much as I hated it here, I really didn't have a choice. At least I had a bed, right? And food and... the dogs.

"Guess I could come back, for a while, seeing its so important."

They smiled and put their arms around me and took me back to the car. I smiled softly too.

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><p>The next day was better. The intruding family stayed to themselves on one side of the porch and I sat next to Uncle Sam, him and Uncle Dean with shotguns across their laps. Waiting for the salesmen. Apparently it was a daily sport. I had a bottle of root beer on my lap, the condensation dripping down my legs.<p>

"How's that root beer, kid?"

I made a noise of approval and couldn't help but notice the look of contempt from the family across the porch, the kids staring at me with envy. The mother hit the father hard a couple of times. I tuned out whatever they were saying, something about a will and dying and stuff. Instead I focused on the car making its way up the dirt road. When it parked the man jumped out, a white flag waving over his head, pleading for a moment of their time.

I stood up with my uncles and tapped Uncle Dean on the shoulder.

"What?" he growled.

"Why not see what he's selling?" I suggested.

"What for?"

"What's the good of having all that money if you're never gonna spend it?"

"Could be the kid has a point," Uncle Sam said.

"We'll see what the man's selling," Uncle Dean said, "Then we shoot him."

"Good plan."

Together we walked down to the car. The back had something attached to it, covered in a heavy green cloth. Making his sales pitch, the man pulled off the cloth. Under it was something shiny and unbelievably fancy.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning for a closer look at the machine.

"Well that right there is the sport of kings," the man said, "Up 'til now only heads of state have been able to afford a fine piece of equipment like that and it is so simple to operate even this child could do it."

"Really?" my eyes lit up.

The man grinned and pointed at a small computer screen. It had a small square screen that said 'pull' and when he told me to I was to push it. Hesitantly, I pressed my finger to the little screen. As soon as my finger touched the screen a clay pigeon shot out of a tube, flying into the air. The man pulled out a gun from the trunk and shot it out of the air.

"Wow!" I exclaimed.

My uncles both grinned as they looked at the machine. The family, the intruding family who wanted Uncle Sam and Dean's money, told him to pack it up and leave.

"We'll take it," Uncle Dean said.

The family, not wanting any part of this, left. Uncle Sam pulled out a wad of money and handed it over the salesmen. I spent the rest of the day loading clay pigeons and launching them over the pond for my uncles. They were excellent shooters and I couldn't help but think this summer was going better than I anticipated.


	4. Chapter 3

I picked up the picture of the man again that night. He was a gorgeous man. A well shaped face with a hint of stubble. His lips were set in a serious line and his blue eyes seemed to glow. I wondered who he was, why was his picture in a box designed to ward of demons and angels?

I heard the door slam.

Uncle Dean was out by the lake again. He wasn't fighting this time, just looking out over the lake. I reached out to pull on his arm, wake him up, when Uncle Sam pulled on my arm.

"Don't,"he said, "I tried to wake him once. He nearly tore my head off. Leave him for a few minutes."

He took me by the shoulder and made a small fire. The dogs and pig came up around us and we sat on a few logs.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

"Well, a man's body may grow old, but inside his spirit can still be as young and restless as ever," Uncle Sam said, "And him... in his day. He had more spirit than 20 men."

I looked back at Uncle Dean, "It looks like... he's looking for something."

Uncle Sam nodded.

"What?"

"He's looking for _him_."

Uncle Dean continued to look out over the lake.

"Who?" I asked, "What was his name?"

"Castiel."

I could sense a story. My eyes lit up and I leaned closer, "Okay, tell me."

"You want me to tell you a story? Now?" Uncle Sam said softly, "That would take days."

I just continued to look at him, hoping I could convey my interest through my eyes. He looked back at me and I could see his resolve failing him.

"Well, it started when I was just 6 months old," Uncle Sam said, "Dean was 4 years old and that night changed our lives forever..."


	5. Chapter 4

6 months to the day after I was born, our mother died. Killed by a demon with yellow eyes. Dad swore revenge and we lived the life of hunters. I left for college though, I didn't want to be a part of this life. But when I turned 22, Dean came up to my door and brought me back into the life of hunting.

Things went well, for a time. Just us crossing boarders and killing demons and spirits, wendigos and zombies. We eventually found our father, but he made a deal with the Yellow Eye Demon to keep Dean alive. It took a year, but we managed to kill the demon.

"_You can't kill a demon," I interrupted his story._

"_Yes you can," Uncle Sam said, "There's a gun, made by Samuel Colt, that can kill anything. Even demons."_

The only problem with killing the demon, was that I died. Stabbed in the back. So Dean made a deal himself, one year left of life for my life. That year was hard. There was no way to undo a demon deal and when time was up, he was dragged to Hell.

We met a demon, Ruby. She was on our side though. And, well. With Dean gone, I didn't have anything else to do. Ruby saved my life. I would have gotten myself killed on my revenge to get Dean back. The only problem was... the demon blood.

"_You didn't!" I gasped, "Uncle Sam!"_

"_I did," Uncle Sam said gently, "I'm not proud of it, but I did."_

The demon blood made me stronger. I could kill demons with my mind, but keep the host alive. We didn't know what brought Dean out of Hell, but we were damn grateful it did. He and Bobby went to figure it out and I went to Ruby. Because no demon just drags someone out of Hell.

Turns out though, it wasn't a demon.


	6. PSA

PSA for all my lovely readers.

Any story that is not completed by April will not be picked up again for a couple of years.

I'll be going out of state for 18 months and won't have any access to the Internet.

Hopefully by the time I'm back, I'll have plenty of ideas for rewrites of my SPN fics (namely the ones inspired by Shrek, Ice Age, and Secondhand Lions).

I want to thank you for reading and following and reviewing and all the glorious stuff.

I'll see you guys later :)


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